Lovesick
by LovelyFarron
Summary: "Isabela…I'd fight all the Qunari in the world if it meant you would be safe. However, if any sea monsters go grabbing you, I'm afraid you're on your own." It was only fitting that seasick prone Hawke had fallen for a pirate queen. Nothing in his life was ever simple, but he wouldn't have it any other way and neither would she.


Game: Dragon Age

Pairing: Hawke/Isabela

Genre: Romance, Humor

Rating: T

Lovesick

Garrett Hawke had never liked sailing on the open sea. The wind in his hair, the cry of the gulls, the strong smell of sault…he hated all of it. Even when the weather was good and the sun was shining brightly as puffy white clouds danced in front of its golden rays he hated it. In fact, he probably hated it more.

So why in the name of the Maker had he fallen in love with a pirate?

The warrior puffed his cheeks out as a look of horror crossed his face, desperation replacing the usual cocky smugness in his amber eyes as bile climbed up his throat and painted his tongue with its disgusting taste. His strong hands gripped the rail tightly as he stared into the churning waters below, the ship cutting through the waves cleanly as strong, steady gales carried it along.

His thick raven hair was stuck fast to his forehead, perspiration matting it together in clumps. His beard wasn't doing too well either and he was half-tempted to shave the blighted thing completely off. He had slipped out of his Champion's armor shortly after leaving Kirkwall—for probably the very last time; he had a feeling that if he ever returned he would not be leaving the city again—and into his finery, which he had quickly taken from his home before his temporary truce with the templars came to an end.

It had never occurred to him that they were escaping in Isabela's ship and that ships went on water and that he had the unfortunate habit of getting sick whenever he was out on the open sea for too long.

"Maker have mercy…"

He couldn't quite see his reflection, but he was sure a sickly pallor had come upon him, making his face as green as Merrill's…whatever it was that she wore.

"Hmmm…."

His eyebrows drew together as the question as to what on Thedas it was that Merrill dressed in troubled his mind, momentarily distracting him from his seasickness.

"Robes…don't all mages wear robes?" he mused out loud. "That's why father said he had to escape the Circle; he couldn't take the style of dress anymore. Can't say I blame him…I wouldn't like to flounce about in a skirt all day long. What if a strong breeze knocked you over? Think of the scandal!" He stroked his bearded chin seriously. "Bethany has never seemed to mind, but then again she's always worn leggings. But perhaps she would know anyway…? She wasn't the only mage in the Wardens; there had to be some Circle mages she interacted with…"

The idea of bringing his Grey Warden sister up from below deck seemed like a good idea—because he truly was curious about the whole mage dress thing—but the moment he moved to go get her he was violently reminded why he hadn't left his spot near the edge of the ship all morning long and immediately turned back around to empty the contents of his stomach—which wasn't much—into the sea below.

"Huuuhhhh!" he gagged, dry heaving as his eyes filled with tears. He gave the water a weak, apologetic smile. "So sorry little fishes, it's not my fault, I swear. Blame those nasty templars for chasing me out of Kirkwall. And before that, blame the blighted Blight for driving me from Ferelden."

His stomach decided that it had punished him enough after a few minutes had gone by and relented in its torment, allowing a sweet relief to wash over him. He turned around and slumped down onto the dirty wooden deck, his hair sticky and gross, body covered in a thin sheen of cool sweat.

"Sweet, lovely, cool wood…" he laughed a bit giddily. "You have not betrayed me, no…You are sturdy and sound, not prone to capsizing or doing whatever it is that makes ships sink, right?"

"Hey now, that's my ship you're talking to. Be nice."

Hawke's lips curled up in a smile.

_Isabela._

He moved his head so he could see his Captain, grinning like a lovesick fool. She was stunning in all her pirate glory, her dark brown hair whipping around her face, mouth twitched up in an amused smirk. There was a light about her, a bound of energy in every step that had not been with her while she was in the City of Chains. It was refreshing to see her this way, to see her so happy and truly free.

The second they had crossed from the docks to her ship she had come alive, orders flowing effortlessly from her mouth as the Captain in her awoke. She had known everything that needed to be done, had caught every snag before it tripped them up. Even Aveline had been impressed.

Isabela was at her element here; she was at her best among the waves, crustaceans, sharks, and every other marine animal that called the blasted great blue its home.

"I was being nice, I swear," he laughed.

"Were you now?" Isabela cocked a slender eyebrow as she made her way over to her downed lover, hips swaying. If Hawke's abdominal muscles hadn't felt like they'd been put through a wringer he would have been sitting up and enjoying the moment, but as it was he was lying prostrate on the deck.

"Insulting a woman's ship is worse than insulting her mum," Hawke replied seriously. "I've learned a few things in our time together. I'm not completely daft." He moved one of his hands over the wood fondly, as if he was caressing a lover.

The Rivaini chuckled, stopping in front of him and gently prodding him with her toe. "Have you fallen for my ship then?"

"Quite possibly. It certainly appears that way, doesn't it?"

Laughing louder, Isabela used her foot to kick him over onto his back, eliciting a pained groan from the man.

"Must you be so cruel to me? I was enjoying the view."

"But isn't this one better?" Isabela asked, planting her feet on either side of his torso and leaning over him. She licked her lips seductively before taking the lower lip between her teeth and biting down lightly, her golden amber eyes gleaming mischievously.

Hawke's grin widened and he opened his mouth to respond, but at just that moment another wave of nausea decided to make an appearance. Clamping his mouth shut as his eyes bulged in horror, he scrambled out from beneath Isabela and nearly flung himself over the railing in his attempt to get to a safe place to vomit.

"Oh, this is sexy," Isabela commented wryly.

"But isn't it?" he returned lightly before his stomach cramped and pushed its acids up his esophagus.

Isabela sighed and shook her head as he heaved, looking away so as to give him some semblance of privacy. She was used to seasickness and the gross ramifications of it had long stopped bothering her, but Hawke had been appalled when she had stayed at his side the first time he'd gotten sick a few days earlier so now she pretended not to notice.

In truth, she found the whole situation rather hysterical. How funny was it that a man prone to seasickness had fallen in love with a pirate queen?

"Sorry Starfish," he said after he was done a few seconds later, breathing ragged as he looked over his shoulder. "It seems that I am not cut out for a pirate's life."

"Yes, it would seem that way…" Isabela agreed, eyes softening sympathetically as she came to stand beside him. Her right hand went to his back and began to rub soothing circles across the fabric. "Do you want me to get Anders? I'm sure he could cook some cure up for you, if he could get rid of my—"

"No! No! I'm quite good!" Hawke said, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence, eyes widening. "I'll get through this on my own, thank you. Anders may be a master healer, but if we're trying to get me to stop throwing up, giving me one of his poultices might be a very bad idea."

Isabela laughed again, resting her head against her lover's shoulder. "They can be quite nasty, can't they?"

Garrett snorted. "Yes, they can. More importantly—and more seriously—I think we should conserve what little ingredients for nasty poultices we have because nasty or not, we don't have many supplies and somewhere down the road it is very possible that we may need them for some greater purpose than seasickness."

"You say that like you expect trouble."

Hawke nudged her lightly. "I'm a Hawke. Whether I expect trouble or not, it always finds me."

Isabela murmured in consent, wrapping her arms around his larger muscled one. "That it does…"

The two stood in silence for a good ten minutes, each reflecting upon the events of the last several days. So much had changed for them, for the world. Anders was a wanted man, Sebastian was now one of their greatest enemies, Hawke had lost the Amell family estate once more, Aveline and Donnic were considered traitors of the guard for not complying with the Knight-Commander's orders, and war had erupted in Kirkwall. Both the former Champion and pirate knew that the war would not stay contained to Kirkwall however; both knew that the City of Chains was just the first to fall to the fires of a revolution long overdue.

Isabela had no personal stake in the war itself, she could care less about mages and templars and their bloody problems. She did what she wanted when she wanted, and if someone stood in her way it did not matter if they were a mage or a templar. She would cut them down just the same.

She supposed if she really had to pick a side she would have to go with the mages since her core values in life were fun, freedom, and getting ahead. She couldn't consciously support a system that oppressed a group of people, regardless of whatever mystical powers they wielded. That, and Hawke's little sister, Bethany, was a mage.

An idea entered her mind at the thought of the youngest Hawke sibling and her smile returned, tinged with a bit of mischief. "Do you suppose that Bethany is chatting up Fenris right now? Or do you think they've gone beyond chatting and into the fun stuff?"

The question had its intended effect and she felt Hawke shift uncomfortably. "I'd rather not think about it."

"Oh come on!" Isabela teased, bumping him with her hip. "She could do a lot worse than an elf that glows in the dark." She paused, brow knitting together as she thought about his unique lyrium ability. "Could be very useful for—"

"I don't have a problem with Fenris," Hawke interjected, eyes bulging in dread at the realization of where Isabela's line of thought was leading her. "I just have a problem with…well…she's my _sister_. My _little_ sister."

"She's not that little Garrett. You can't protect her from everything for forever, especially hot brooding elves."

"Maker's breath, Isabela," he groaned, running a scarred hand across his face. "Hot? Brooding?"

"What? He is hot. And brooding."

He glanced down at her, a bushy eyebrow raised in amusement. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Isabela flashed her white teeth. "Not at all. I prefer my men big, tall, and seasick."

"Glad to hear that. And now that you've reminded me that I'm seasick, please excuse me for a moment…"

Shaking her head, Isabela let go of Hawke as he stepped forward and hurled over the side of the ship again.

"I really wish you'd mentioned this little bit sooner," she said. "If I'd known…" Her voice trailed off as she realized she didn't know what she'd have done. Left him in Kirkwall to face the templars alone? Let him drag their ragtag group through the Vimmark Mountains and risk getting caught?

"If you'd known, you'd have what?" Hawke asked once he was able to. He wearily turned to face her, looking absolutely miserable in his haggard state. His lips were cracked and dry and his eyes were bloodshot with dark bags under them. He looked positively ill and miserable.

She shrugged, her heart suddenly doing a funny flip-flop in her chest. Hawke hadn't looked this terrible since…since…

"I'm not quite sure," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm sure you would have figured out something. You're good at figuring things out and getting us out of jams." Her shoulders slumped slightly and her eyes went to stare at her boots. "You're good at getting _me_ out of jams…" she added softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

"Ah." Smiling in understanding, he opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. She gladly took the invite, sighing as he wrapped himself around her in a loving embrace. Despite his state, he was still a pillar of strength and comfort and she greedily drank in all the support he offered. "Isabela…I'd fight all the Qunari in the world if it meant you would be safe. However, if any sea monsters go grabbing you, I'm afraid you're on your own."

Isabela hummed, knowing that he was trying to cheer her up. She appreciated it, but the confidence she was normally filled to the brim with had left her, the one scar that she could not look at with fond memories and a laugh of "Opps, I won't do that again", burning deeper into her skin with guilt.

She buried her face against his chest as his scent overwhelmed her, thankful that he was still there with her. They were all a bit smelly since it'd been days since they'd last been able to give themselves a proper scrub down, but she didn't mind one bit. The dirt, grit, grime, and stinky smells were as much her friends as the wind and the waves. There were good things and bad things about being a pirate captain and she had learned to accept all, even coming to see the downsides as positives.

"You're going to get yourself killed one day…" she whispered. "That bleeding heart of yours got you impaled on the Arishok's sword and almost on Meredith's blade."

"Don't forget Orsino's creepy Harvester hand."

She shivered in revulsion, nose wrinkling in disgust. "I was trying not to think of that monstrosity."

"My apologies."

"Not accepted."

Once again silence fell upon the pair. The crew of her ship had been giving them a wide berth for they knew better than to intrude upon the Captain's personal time lest it be for some emergency. That Bethany, Varric, Aveline, Anders, Fenris, and Merrill had left them alone undisturbed for this long was a miracle in and of itself, for while they loved their friends, they did enjoy the times that it was just the two of them alone together.

Isabela snuggled in closer to Hawke's chest as a particularly chilly breeze blew across the deck and tickled her bare skin. It wasn't really the breeze that was making her feel cold both inside and out, but rather the thoughts of the many times she had nearly lost the one person she'd been waiting her whole life to meet.

How many wounds had he suffered in place of her? How much heartache? How much blood had he shed on her behalf?

Her chest constricted painfully, salty tears filling her eyes but refusing to fall.

She'd had many lovers in the past and even been married, but what she had with Hawke…it was special. She had fallen for him without wanting to; she had been ready to simply give him a go between the sheets and call it another experience had. He had been one of the best built lovers she'd ever been with and certainly the gentlest and most considerate, but those hadn't been the reasons why she'd come back. No, she hadn't fallen in love with him because of his abilities or his looks, because of his muscles or his stamina. She'd fallen in love _with_ him, with the person beneath the pretty exterior.

And she was terrified of losing him. She might have him wrapped around her little pinky, but he had taken hold of her heart.

She felt his arms tighten around her and she wondered what he was thinking. She glanced up at him, frowning and pursing her lips when she saw the serious expression on his face, his eyes staring unseeingly out at some distant point.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, reaching up to touch the side of his clammy face.

He blinked and looked down at her, startled out of his reverie by her voice and soft fingers. "What?"

She put on a mock-angry face. "You've got _that_ look on your face again."

He chuckled and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Which 'that' look? I have many 'that' looks. You'll have to be more specific."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "Come on, Hawke. You know what I'm talking about. Tell me before I gut you and leave you out for the gulls to feast upon."

"Alright, since you're so persuasive…" He sighed, his gaze drifting back out to the sea. "I was thinking of how selfish I am."

Isabela blinked several times, not believing what she'd just heard. "_You_? _Selfish_?" She snorted and knocked her head gently against him. "I did not just hear that."

"Oh, but I am," he said seriously. The tone in his voice caught her off guard and she looked at him again, concerned. "I am the most selfish person on the face of the Thedas."

"Oh? Do tell. This I have got to hear."

He let out a long breath and closed his emotive tawny eyes. "I was just thinking…I want to save the mages not only because it's the right thing to do, not only because my sister is one of them, but because…well…" He squirmed, uncomfortable.

"Because? Out with it!" Isabela prompted impatiently.

"I was just thinking…the chances of…us…having a child…that is a mage...Well, it's a very likely possibility."

The Rivaini stopped breathing, her deft hands twisting tightly into the fabric of Hawke's shirt. Had he just…?

The warrior laughed, his body shaking with mirth. "I'm not just fighting for the mages of the world, you see. I'm fighting for our future children on the off chance they are born with magic. The chances are quite high when you consider my heritage, and—"

"You'd have children? With _me_?" Isabela asked suddenly, dumbfounded.

Garrett glanced down at her, confused. "Of course I would."

"With _me_? Pirate Queen Isabela? The Rivaini? The thief? The woman that nearly got you killed?"

He moved his shoulders up and down. "I don't see why not. You're smart, beautiful, and a wicked good card player. But that's only if you want children of course," he added hastily. "I'm not the one that would be waddling around after all. If you don't want any little Isabelas or little Hawkes running ab—hrmf!"

Isabela's mouth crashed into his with bruising force, hands digging into his shirt with need.

The idea of having children both terrified and disgusted her. It wasn't the actual making of them that was gross—she would do that all day and all night if she wasn't sure it would kill Hawke—but the thought of having a messy, obnoxious little brat to take care of…

Then again, she'd never met a man quite like Hawke and she was certain that he wouldn't leave her to rear their child on her own, as her previous husband would have. No, he would be there for her through the vomit and poop, doing what she didn't want to do and offering a helping hand when the times got tough. He wouldn't abandon her, wouldn't leave her side. He'd nearly died for her, had waited for her to return and kept the torch lit for her in case she did.

Despite having every reason in existence to leave her, he hadn't.

Her tongue traced around the outline of his lips, which he refused to open not because he didn't want to kiss her back—which he did with a burning passion—but because of the activities he'd been engaging in all morning, which included large amounts of vomiting. Instead, his hands snaked up her sides and tangled themselves in her long locks, pressing her skull against his.

He was far from perfect, she knew that, but then again so was she and that was something he knew. Apart they were half-full but together they were complete.

And that was why, if it was Hawke's child, she decided she wouldn't mind.

"What say we go to my cabin so you can shiver my timbers?" she asked breathily, her eyes half-closed.

"That is an excellent idea…" Hawke murmured. "Just let me…!"

Eyes widening, he suddenly let go of her and grabbed the railing of the ship again, hanging his head over the side of the ship as he retched.

Isabela laughed again, her good spirits returned. "I'm sure one of our mages has something that can help. We might as well put them to good use."

Hawke didn't say anything, acknowledging her with a quick thumbs up.

Chuckling softly as she wagged her head, Isabela left to go below deck to hunt up one of their friends. Reaching the stairs that would take her below, she cast one last look over her shoulder, a resigned yet happy expression on her face.

"You may be seasick Hawke, but at least there's a remedy for that…For the lovesick fool, I'm afraid there is no cure."


End file.
